Finders Keepers
by loki-god-of-sexiness
Summary: "No," he said; proudly, defiantly. The tone made Loki scowl. "Finders keepers, brother, don't you remember? You're all mine now."


The young god of mischief huffed impatiently, a loose strand of dark hair blowing in front of his face at the action before landing on his nose. In his annoyance, his eyes crossed as if to glare the strand into submission by the sheer power of his mind. Part of the problem happened to be that Loki was currently wedged between two shelves in the palace library, books carefully placed in front of him as his chest was pressed against the wooden back of the entire case. At least, he consoled himself, he was thin enough that this was a well thought out plan and not some poorly executed attempt at suffocating himself.

"Hurry up, you oaf…" Loki muttered to himself, eyebrows furrowing in irritation as he waited for the heavy footsteps of his brother to enter the room. He had no such luck, as apparently the Norns despised him and his very existence. And, of course, his very justifiable need to play hide and seek. It seemed like hours ago that he had suggested that they do so and Thor readily agreed to the idea, taking it upon himself to be the one to find his younger brother first and started shouting out numbers before Loki even had the chance to do anything but go wide-eyed and run. The game had started in Thor's chambers, and for all the trickster knew, he could have simply gotten distracted by some shiny, inanimate object. That seemed like a very _Thor_ thing to do. His brother was an idiot half the time, but then he really couldn't comment much on the matter while his face was pressed against wood by his own volition.

Perhaps it really had been hours, for Loki felt a low rumble in his stomach for nearly the tenth time in five minutes that told him just how long it had been since he ate that morning. His muscles were aching, his mouth had gone dry in the hope for water, and the worst part about it all was that he really, _really_ needed to pee. A bit crass, he supposed, but it was true. But, they had a game going on, and he would be damned if he let Thor win yet again. He beat him enough as it was in the practice ring, and if anything, Loki should be good at hiding. Not whining in his effort to hold still while he waited for the older god to come and fetch him. It was, he decided then, the worst waiting period in his entire life.

After shifting himself multiple times, and trying to blow the hair out of his face only to have it land back on his nose without a care for anything at all, Loki finally admitted that he was never going to win if he was running on an empty stomach and a full bladder. Warriors even stopped to eat, so why shouldn't he? It was a reasonable excuse, and one he would gladly use when Thor inevitably teased him for losing. A vicious cycle, really, for then he would be determined to beat him the next round, only to be defeated by his body's incessant demands once more. It was a cycle that he would dare not disturb, and he found himself carefully turning on his side until he faced the outside world, with the confidence that he hadn't _really _lost if Thor hadn't found him yet. With a grunt at the effort of trying not to knock the bookshelf over with him in it, he moved the books aside, carefully dropping them to the ground before clambering down from his perch. Loki's feet landed on solid ground, and his gut gave another impatient grumble. He glared down at it, as if it had personally offended him in some way, and bent to pick up the books he had practically thrown in his endeavor for freedom. The tomes themselves looked relatively interesting, if not a little on the side of battered and bruise from centuries of use, but at the moment he had no time for them. There were more important matters, like the kitchen just a few short minutes away. The servants and cooks would more than likely yell at him as he tried to sneak away a tart or a roll of bread, but he was _certain_ there was always a fond tone to their shouting. Besides, even if they disliked him and he had read their words entirely wrong, he still got his food. So, the books were set back on the shelf with the careful precision one learns as a student of magic, and he was relieved that he had at least accomplished that without leaving them scattered so he could attend to more pressing problems.

He was trying to figure out just where an unmarked one would be placed when he felt a pair of familiar, and strong compared to his boney self, arms wrap around his middle and a loud laugh sound near his ear. In his surprise, Loki dropped the book and gave a sound that should most definitely not be made by a prince of Asgard.

"Thor! I swear, I will feed you to Father's goat if you don't desist this insanity this very instant," he warned pushing at the hands that were locked around his waist to no avail. Loki would forever curse his choice to study the history of the realms and different spells and tricks than to spend his time training with a skilled warrior. It made for a difficult escape when one's older brother was being a stupid brute and refused to let them move when they were starving.

The blonde boy merely laughed again, tightening his hold on the squirming trickster. "No," he said; proudly, defiantly. The tone made Loki scowl. "Finders keepers, brother, don't you remember? You're all mine now."Even without having to see his face, Loki knew that he was looking rather smug as he shifted his feet a few times, both of them swaying with the movement as he tried to prove his words. The younger prince rolled his eyes and stilled his actions in a resigned sort of way.

"Well, what good am I to you if I die of starvation first?" he asked, stomach protesting in agreement with his words.

Thor seemed to contemplate that for a moment before he released his hold on Loki. He breathed a sigh of relief, but it was soon replaced by a groan as Thor spun him around and joined their hands instead, a bright grin on his face. It was infectious, apparently, as Loki's own lips threatened to twitch up into a smile. Damn him. _Damn_ him. He was hungry and in no mood to be smiling, let alone holding hands with his brother.

"Fine. If you are going to insist that you will die, though I _know_ you had breakfast this morning, then we can sneak into the kitchen and steal a few sweets." Seemingly satisfied with his plan, Thor nodded once before tugging on their joined hands until they were both jogging through the rows upon rows of books and scrolls. Stopping abruptly, making Loki stumble and curse him, he turned back to Loki, grin softened to a smile. "But, you are still mine, brother," he reminded him before leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek which quickly flared up in what he told himself was annoyance.

Once more, Loki rolled his eyes, though it was a rather forced action, and started running again, his fingers slipping easily into his brother's.


End file.
